Dear Diary
by beauifulliketherain
Summary: If Belle kept a diary during her stay at the Dark Castle, what would the entries have looked like? Life at the castle from Belle's point of view.
1. Chapter 1

Dear Diary,

Well, this is new. I mean, I've written from the window-seat in my room, from under the rose tree in the garden, and recently the council room, but a dungeon? First time for everything, I suppose.

No, we're not taking shelter from the ogres. In fact, if the Dark One is really as faithful to hos deals as people say, the ogres won't be a problem any more. I 'm afraid I can't say the same for my terrible cooking skills.

Remember how I told you what I suggested to Papa, about summoning the Dark One? Well, he wasn't easily persuaded, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and he _finally_ allowed me to send a message for help. God knows he waited long enough. Whenever I close my eyes, I can still see the faces of the dead and dying, and their crying will give me nightmares, even though Papa allowed me to visit the infirmary only once. I sometimes think that even those who have survived the horrors of the war haven't come back quite whole, in mind or body.

And then the bombshell that Avonlea had fallen. I don't think I've ever seen Papa so broken, since Mother's death. He'd lost hope, I could see, he thought it was too late. The Dark One would not answer, and the ogres would slaughter us all.

Some of the books did say that he has a penchant for dramatic appearances, so I tried to reassure him, even though I wasn't sure myself. I would hope no others die at the hands of those beasts.

About dramatic appearances, the books were right. I mean, seriously, the Dark One likes to show off. But he wasn't what I expected in appearance. He's _tiny_ \- barely taller than I am, though power radiates from him in waves, and he has an aura and reputation powerful enough for his height not to matter. Even so, he's no hairy monster, despite odd green-gold skin and snake-like eyes.

And 'help, help, we're dying' might have been the gist of the massage, but I spent days trying to decide how to address him. How could he _butcher_ my prose like that?!

But of course, he can do anything he likes. Because, today, I made a deal with the darkest and most feared sorcerer in all the lands to forever be his servant. And I'm afraid. I'm glad it was a price I could pay, because I asked for his help in the first place. But what does he want with me? That is what I have been thinking. Why would he want someone who hasn't cooked in her life to serve him meals?

Maybe it's only an excuse. Maybe I am an amusement, something to hurt when he's angry. But the deal was worth it, and he can never take that away. I will never allow myself bitterness or regret. Whatever he does, my people are safe, the monsters that killed my mother dead, because of this deal.

It is not too high a price.

And Mother always told me, no one is as dark as they knows? In any case I won't have to marry Gaston. so that's another thing to be thankful for.

Tomorrow he tells me my duties.

Wish me luck.

Belle


	2. Chapter 2

Midnight

Dear Diary

I could hardly get any sleep at all anyway, so I might as well write. I stopped trying not to cry some time ago, and must say it felt good not to have to hold back the tears anymore. I'm alone and cold and frightened, so not the best conditions for sleep, I guess.

I ran out of tears a while ago, or maybe I'm too tired to cry anymore. I'll never see Papa again and I left against his wishes. I just wish I could have explained that I love him more than words can say, would never have left him like that if there had been any other choice, _any_ way at all. Because, yes, I want adventure, but he needs me. But I can't, so I just hope he understands. Forever is a long time for regret. I just wish I'd said a proper goodbye.

Better try to rest a little bit, though how I can, in this cold, dark place, is a mystery.

-#-

Next Night

Well, contrary to common expectation (including my own), I am still alive at the end of my first day at the Dark Castle.

Not only that, I am relatively unscathed (shock doesn't count), though I have learned a few things.

First, puffy gold ball gowns are not exactly the best attire for scrubbing floors, though I can't exactly expect the Dark One to give me new clothes. If he thinks I'm going to ask him for anything, he's wrong. I _can_ clean in this dress, and I will.

Second, I really should have learned to cook _before_ I made a deal to be a caretaker. I'm mentally blessing Mrs Potts for the basic lessons she gave me, back when I could still slip away to the kitchens unnoticed. This way, I at least knew how to make tea (reminds me, the Dark One takes his tea black, with two sugar cubes and lemon. Gotta remember that, I've a feeling I'm going to do this often), which was the first thing he asked me to do when he opened the door at dawn. I'm to serve him meals, so I hope he doesn't mind sandwiches and such until I get better at it. The larder is always full, so I guess I could do a few experiments, see what works.

And third, the Dark One has a sense of humor. A morbid, horrifying one, but still. After he told me everything I'm to do (and taking care of the whole castle myself isn't in itself a very inviting prospect), he added one last order: you'll skin the children I hunt, for their pelt.

And I, clumsy as I am, dropped the cup I was holding in horror. In that moment, I truly believed him capable of doing such a thing, killing a child, and making me..no. He said it was merely a quip, a joke made at my expense, perhaps, but I was hardly in any state to fell insulted. I felt so relieved, I was almost happy.

And then I noticed the cup I had so hastily dropped at my feet. I hadn't filled it yet, so no tea stained the carpet, but the cup, it had a piece missing from the rim. A chip.

I wondered what he would do now. But it was almost anticlimactic, really. He told me it was just a cup. 'Just a cup'! Even if one of the servants back home had done something like that, dropped a cup in front of their master, they would at least have been reprimanded for carelessness. In other places, I've seen worse treatment. and here was the infamous Dark One, not even raising his voice on the matter. He even took the damaged cup and told me I was to serve him with it. Why was that, I wonder? (and again, thanks to Mrs Potts that I could make tea with all this running through my head)

I just wish I knew what he was _thinking_. He is so hard to read, but I guess I just don't know him yet. I've decided I want him to be pleased with me, if only because his gesture with the cup touched me. He would, in this instance, have been justified in his anger. But he was more than fair, when he needn't even have been that.

So, in a way, I owe it to him to not be what he expected either. I may not be able to read him as easily as I can other people (it's only a matter of time ), but I think he's so sure I'm going to hate him that he doesn't bother to find out if I will.

I'm not sure what kind of a person he is yet, maybe it _was_ just a cup and he didn't care about it , and if I hurt something precious , he'd show his true colours. But it may just as well have been a genuine act of kindness,and I am going to find out, one way or another.

I'm really, really tired, so maybe I should rest.. I've been crying again, I just can't help it. Writing helps. But after a day of work I'm so worn out I just might sleep.

Do you know, I was just about busy enough thinking of Rumplestiltskin today that I was able to get my mind off home for a little while.

I always have loved a good mystery.

Belle


	3. Chapter 3

My Dear Diary,

It's truly amazing how easy it is to fall into a routine, wherever you are. It's barely been a week, and I have a basic idea of how my day will pass.

The door will open everyday just after dawn, which is my cue to go to the kitchens to prepare a tea tray. It's a good thing that I've always been an early riser, so on most days, I'm already awake by then.

When I take the tea to the Great Hall, Rumplestiltskin is usually already waiting for me. He's an early riser himself, but he doesn't much care for breakfast and only takes tea. Sometimes he invites me to have some with him, then I have some breakfast in the kitchen.

I spend the day exploring the parts of the Castle I haven't seen before, cleaning out what I can. Rumplestiltskin doesn't eat much, if he wants lunch or dinner, he informs me, otherwise I just fix a quick snack for myself. When Rumplestiltskin knows I'm tired he'll send me back down to sleep.

And diary, it frightens me. The monotony of it all, one day after another. It is the same as what was at home: I knew what was going to happen in my life, I knew I was going to grow old in the same place without seeing the world. Now,I live with someone who has already done so, but he refuses to share anything.

And I _am_ grateful, I know it could be much worse.I just wish I had a purpose in this place. However unpleasant, I knew my duty at home and had accepted it, if grudgingly. Here, Rumplestiltskin can clean the whole castle or conjure a banquet at a whim. So what am I doing here?

I intend to find out.

Belle


End file.
